Young and Green
by Mistral Amara
Summary: When Avon and Dayna decide to fight the rebellion using science, they get some unexpected results. Complete.


Disclaimer: The Blakes 7 characters and settings are not mine. This not-for-profit fanfiction has been written for the education of the author and the entertainment of other fans. No infringement is intended.

Summary: When Avon and Dayna decide to fight the rebellion using science, they get some unexpected results.

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Young and Green

by Mistral Amara

"Are you sure we shouldn't tell the others what we're doing?" asked Dayna for the dozenth time.

"And endure another of Tarrant's lectures on the dangers of scientific arrogance?" replied Avon. "I haven't the time or the patience. Besides, we're nearly done. When he sees it work, he'll understand its strategic value."

Dayna checked a setting on the instrument panel. The new machine wasn't that different from the teleport, really; just more selective. Still, it had taken the pair of them several months of testing and refinement to get it to this stage. "This would have been easier on the Liberator," she said.

"We work with what we have." Avon rubbed his temple. "I need a break."

"And we both need some food. Why don't you rest while I get our lunch?"

"Feed the test animals, while you're at it."

They left the lab proper and went in separate directions, she toward the mess, and he toward the workroom's most comfortable chair. Orac sat on the table beside it. He sat down and inserted Orac's key.

"Yes, yes, what do you want?" Orac grumbled.

"You've had time to analyze the data. Will it work?"

"On reptiles, amphibians, insects, and small mammals, yes."

"On people, Orac."

"If you wish to know that, you must test it on a human. You can make no further progress without it."

Avon grimaced. "I could have come to that conclusion myself."

"Then why do you persist in annoying me with your petty concerns?"

"Because I can," said Avon, and pulled the key before Orac could reply.

He leaned back and closed his eyes, but the thoughts swirling around in his head refused to settle. The project was going well; only a few final adjustments remained. He should have been pleased. Instead he found himself agreeing with Dayna: this _would_ have been easier on the Liberator. If only there had been time for proper experiments between Blake's ill-thought-out misadventures. All the wonders they had seen, all the technology, and Blake never thought to take advantage of it. If he had, they might have gotten somewhere.

But Blake had relied on rhetoric and psychology, neither of which was Avon's forte. If he had to lead the rebellion--and he had avoided it as long as he reasonably could--well, then, he would play to his strengths. If only he didn't have to do it with the limited resources of Scorpio and Xenon. Perhaps then, he wouldn't be so tired all the time . . .

He didn't realize that he had nodded off until he was startled awake by a small, faraway voice: "Abon! Abon, wad hab you been ub do?"

Blinking, Avon looked around to see who was calling him. There was nobody. Only a small green frog, one of the many local animals that Dayna had trapped to use for test subjects. It waddled towards him in an awkward fashion, as if it were dazed, its round yellow eyes blinking at irregular intervals. Avon had the sudden, irrational feeling that its expression was one of reproach. Unaccountably irritated, he grabbed it, rather more firmly than was necessary. It squeaked in alarm and wriggled so fiercely that he thought it might escape, so he stuffed it into the inner pocket of his jacket, where it continued to struggle and kick.

"Dayna!" he bellowed, just as she entered with a tray bearing their lunch. "You'd better check the cages; I've had a visit from one of your pets."

She frowned as she set down the tray. "None of the cages have been open today, excepting the one of the frog we were using."

The frog in question continued to thrash wildly in his pocket. "Abon!" came a muffled cry.

"Did you hear that?" he asked Dayna.

"Hear what?"

It was only his imagination, then. An effect of being overtired. Unless . . . "You did turn off the egoport?"

"I thought _you_ had turned it off!"

Horror gripped Avon. He turned and dashed into the adjoining lab, with Dayna right behind him. The low thrum of the egoport emanated from the console; the memory tubes that had been the Ultra's primary application but which for Avon's purposes were only secondary stood empty in their holders. A few feet away on the floor were the rudimentary contact pads on which the subjects would be positioned. The first was empty. On the second--

"Tarrant?" cried Dayna. Avon suppressed a groan.

Tarrant crouched on one of the pads, slack-jawed and blinking. When he saw them, his expression changed to one of alarm. "Ribbit," he said in agitation. "Ribbit, ribbit."

Well, at least it saved them the trouble of trying to find a human volunteer. Avon sighed and reached into his pocket for the frog.

-- The End --

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A/N: This story was written for Marian Mendez as part of a LiveJournal challenge. Marian asked for Avon, Dayna, a small green frog, and the sentence, "I thought you had turned it off!"


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